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<title>these hands of mine by katsukki (zhuzhting)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409265">these hands of mine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhting/pseuds/katsukki'>katsukki (zhuzhting)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Character Death, Dark, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:07:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhting/pseuds/katsukki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The sensation of dying is like that of a collision. Atsumu almost sees everything in slow motion, feels the bullet enter his skull and splatter brain matter on the window. The descent is slow, but he falls headfirst and it soon slams him right into his own body.</p><p>Osamu’s eyes pin him down where he lies down on the bed. “That was fast.”</p><p>“He had a gun,” Atsumu rasps and Osamu hums like he understands.</p><p>or, atsumu grapples with the reality that he has to keep on dying in order to live</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu &amp; Miya Osamu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>these hands of mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just a little warning that while i'm not gonna be overly graphic with the violence, there are descriptions of dying and self-harm so if that triggers you please skip this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pretending that his brother wasn’t looking at him always made this easier.</p><p>“This migraine is killing me,” he says, rubbing his brow. He tries not to look over when he talks, knows it would make the trip harder.</p><p>Osamu throws him an ibuprofen and he swallows it dry, tries to focus on the rough slide down. It sits somewhere low, and he feels a lump at his throat but it doesn’t choke him. “At least it isn’t a child this time.” There’s a bitter lilt in Osamu’s voice, and Atsumu can almost taste the smoke, it stings like exhaust forcing its way into his lungs.</p><p>Atsumu closes his eyes, pushing away thoughts of small hands grappling at his own throat, trying to live purely on instinct alone. “Yeah,” he whispers, and he tries to inject laughter in his voice. It sounds rough, disjointed, like an echo from the other side of a cave. He barely remembers the sound of his own laugh. “This fucker at least deserves it.” </p><p>When he opens his eyes he looks down at the photo on his lap. A middle aged man looks back at him and Atsumu tries not to dawdle and think about whether or not he has a family.</p><p>“Good luck,” there’s clear hesitation in Osamu’s voice, and now Atsumu wants to actually laugh, because there was no luck involved in any of this, couldn’t possibly be. “Come back soon.” </p><p>Atsumu stares hard at the man and shuts his eyes again.</p><p>It’s a massive shift, like the world is tilting at its core, throwing him off. For a second, gravity is suspended, then it enters him all at once and the world centers itself again but it’s not the same one he left behind.</p><p>The lump in his throat is gone.</p><p>The man he enters smells of cigarettes and sex, it clings around his naked body like a second skin, Atsumu wonders if he’s ever tried washing it off, tried scrubbing until his skin was red and raw. His throat itches and Atsumu can no longer feel the pill he had swallowed earlier.</p><p>There’s a woman curled around his side and her arm burns from where it is pressed against his chest.</p><p>“Sir, are you there?” The voice behind the door is muffled, so much like the voice in his head that Atsumu almost doesn’t register that it isn’t coming from inside his mind.</p><p>“Leave,” he musters, pulling himself from the woman’s hold. He wonders if he sounds different. If the man behind the door recognizes something <em>off</em> in his voice. Atsumu surmises he won’t have the time to fully realize. He almost hears the pause in the man’s movements, the contemplation before he walks away. </p><p>He stands in front of the window, admiring the skyline. He always wondered what Tokyo looked like at night from this high up. It’s as beautiful as he imagined, he thinks, dazzling lights and endless movement, a buzz underneath his skin that never really stops. He wonders if the way the glass feels against his palm would be the same in his own body.</p><p>He feels bad for the woman, almost. Waking up to carnage was never pleasant, but she wouldn’t be the first nor the last and the well of guilt Atsumu once had at the pit of his stomach had long since dried up.</p><p>He curls his hand around the coldness of a gun, thankful for small mercies. Guns were good, they were impartial and desensitizing. He tries not to remember the feel of a pencil in his hands, so big compared to the size of the fingers he wore like ill-fitted gloves. </p><p>This man was bad, did bad things, hurt people. He was bad, bad, <em>bad. </em>Atsumu drowns out the intelligible sobbing and begging in his head with his own mantra, steels himself with the press of metal against his head.</p><p>He smells like cigarettes and sex.</p><p>The sensation of dying is like that of a collision. Atsumu almost sees everything in slow motion, feels the bullet enter his skull and splatter brain matter on the window. The descent is slow, but he falls headfirst and it soon slams him right into his own body.</p><p>Osamu’s eyes pin him down where he lies down on the bed. “That was fast.”</p><p>“He had a gun,” Atsumu rasps and Osamu hums like he understands.</p><p>Atsumu presses his palms against his eyes, trying to forget maybe, he isn’t even sure anymore. The woman’s face is still crystal clear behind his eyelids. He flips the photo in his lap around.</p><p>“I wanna get out.” He mumbles, and he tries to sound strong, hoping the waver in his voice just sounds like tiredness.</p><p>“You tried that,” Osamu says, and Atsumu isn’t sure if he’s reading too much into what his brother was saying or if that was contempt in his voice.</p><p>He did try, he wants to bite back, but Osamu doesn’t deserve his anger.</p><p><em>I can’t do this anymore, </em>he had said, 17 years old and having just hanged himself in the body of a 14-year-old politician’s daughter. She had a pretty bow in her hair and she was silent in the way she whimpered in Atsumu’s head, not even realizing she was dying. </p><p>It was almost condescending how his handler patted his head and told him he did good, ignoring the almost violent wracking sobs forcing its way out his throat. </p><p><em>You need to,</em> they had said, still sifting their hand through his hair, and it was dirty and gross but Atsumu was afraid of moving. <em>You want to keep your brother safe, don’t you?</em></p><p>Atsumu doesn’t know if he still remembers how to cry like that. His tears have long since felt insincere, like they were not his own, sliding down his face like rain on the other side of a car window.</p><p>“I’m just tired,” he curls up and falls asleep to the sound of his brother’s breathing, he doesn’t care for the contempt. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>first haikyuu fic! exciting!! this was more of a warm-up since i feel like i've gotten rusty. i might make this into a series, or not, that depends more on what more my brain decides to write. i promise my next hq fic won't be as dark though!! </p><p>be friends with <a href="https://twitter.com/zhuzhting">me</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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